


A Tale of Legends and Love (Or Something Like That)

by JustYourAverageInternetUser



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: God!Lock, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, Irene is crafty, Janine is the best wing man, John has a very angsty back story, John is dead kinda sorta, Kinda like Thor, Maybe - Freeform, More tags later, Multi, Sherlock & Janine are bros, Sherlock is a God, but not really, of Science
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-02-16 07:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2261601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustYourAverageInternetUser/pseuds/JustYourAverageInternetUser
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is the God of Science. He is also arrogant, selfish, and hated by every other god except for Janine, the Goddess of Magic. When Magnussen tries to steal something from Sherlock's parents, he tries to get revenge. That ends with him being stripped of his powers and banished to Earth, allowed to come back only if he can learn to love some one with all his heart.</p><p>John is a dead solider who was brought back to help Sherlock fall in love with Molly, a human girl. The only problem is John may or may not be in love with Sherlock. And had the biggest crush on him when he was a kid.</p><p>But then Moriarty comes back and John's past is brought to life, and it's up to Sherlock and John to save the day and try not to die. Or fall in love.</p><p>This is a tale of ancient legends and true love. Or it would be if everyone would use their brains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GloomyDays](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=GloomyDays).



> Hello my good people. Welcome. Before we begin, I would like to thank GloomyDays, for not only coming up with this idea, but also being the best PowerSupport eva. I really think this will be a hilarious story and that you guys will love it. I will also be posting this on my tumblr. So leave a review and like this story. I would like to mention that I have most of this planned, but would love to see any suggestions you guys might have. It might just appear in the story ;) Read on my lovelies. Read on. FOR SCIENCE!

7 year old John Watson woke to glass shattering and two people screaming. He shook and hid under the bright blue blanket that covered his bed. His parents were fighting again. He should have expected this, considering his dad came home drunk. But, no matter how much he prepared himself, he was always scared. He hated it. Taking a deep breathe, he came out from under the blanket. He inched slowly across his darkened room, and peaked into the hallway. It was dark , with the exception of the light that crept up from downstairs. Taking another breathe, he slowly sneaked downstairs. When he got to the bottom of the staircase, he peaked around the corner and saw his parents in the kitchen. The shattering sound must have been his mother's vase, which now laid in pieces on the ground.

“I have had it up to here with the drinking, Will!” his mother yelled as she struggled to pick up the shards of her vase. Her blonde hair was done up in a messy bun, and her dark eyes were highlighted by the dark bags under her eyes. It was a look she had more and more recently.

“Well, at least I'm not having an affair, Alice!” his father screamed back. His blue eyes were clouded and bloodshot, the way they were when he had been drinking too much. His brown hair was pushed out of his face by his fingers, which were constantly running through it.

“How dare you!” His mother stood and slapped his father across the face. He roared and grabbed her wrist. John's eyes grew, and he quickly ran back up the stairs. Instead of heading back to his room, he headed to the last door on the left. He quietly, but quickly, knocked on the door. He looked down the hall, terrified he would see his father or mother come charging toward him. The door was suddenly thrown opened, and a hand reached out, grabbed him, and pulled him inside. The door was closed and hands were framing his face as his head was turned from side to side. Then he was turned to face blue eyes that matched his own.

“Are you alright, John?” his sister Harry asked him. Her short brown hair was in a state of chaos and her eyes were red, like she had been crying. But she was still worried about John. That's what he loved about Harry. Even though she was only 16 and shouldn't have to, she still took care of him. He nodded and she smiled, her hands dropping from his face

“Okay John, what story do you want to hear?” It was the same question she asked him every time a night like this came. It started a year ago, when the first fight happened. She had sat with him in her room while he cried, and told him a fairytale. It became a sort of tradition after that. He usually knew what he wanted to hear, but tonight, he didn't want a fairytale. So he shrugged his shoulders.

“I want a new story,” he said as he looked up at Harry.

“A new story,” she said, mostly to herself. She walked over to the opposite side of the room where her giant bookcase sat. She began looking at the books. John could hear her muttering, “Where is it,” under her breathe as she quickened her pace.

“There you are,” she suddenly yelled as she pulled a book of the self. She flipped though the pages quickly before looking back at John. “Grab my blanket and go out on the balcony. I'll be there in a couple of seconds,” she told him. John grabbed the blanket off her bed and walked outside. It was dark and cool, a typical summer night. He sat down in one of the bean bags Harry insisted they put on the balcony so they could be comfortable. He looked up at the clear sky and saw the bright white moon and glittering stars. He then looked pass the horizon and could faintly see the lights from London. Then, the twinkling lights that Harry had strung up come on and she walked out, blanket and book in hand, and shut the door.

She plopped down beside John and smiled. “This book,” she said, “is an ancient story about gods. It comes from an old religion I don't even know the name of. I found it in the attic the other day. I'm not sure where it came from, but it is fantastic. Do you want to hear it?”

John looked her up and down. “Is it really that good?” he asked. She nodded enthusiastically. He cuddled into her side to get a closer look at the book. Harry took that as her cue to begin.

“In the early days of the universe, there existed a race of people.

These people lived in peace, ruled by King Wilfred and Queen Marianne. Then Moriarty came to these peaceful lands, mind set on over throwing the king and queen. But he knew that by himself, he would be no match. So he set off to find allies to join him. He gathered people of all walks of life, ones who were not as powerful as those who ruled. Then he came across Lord Charles Augustus Magnussen. Magnussen wanted revenge on the rulers, but refused to have his name known. He gave Moriarty the key to immortality and power and went on his way, but not before warning of the dangers this could bring.

Moriarty used the key to turn himself into a god. The god of chaos. He set out with his army to take over the universe. But Magnussen was not the only one with the key to power. Irene, the goddess of fate, raced to the king and queen, and gifted them with eternal life and power. Wilfred became the god of balance and Marianne became the goddess of justice. Together, they met Moriarty's army. 

The battle that resulted was long and hard. In the end, Wilfred and Marianne were victorious. They banished Moriarty to Infernum, the realm of hell. They sent Magnussen and Moriarty's army to a different realm called Atri, the land of the dark ones. Irene, pleased at their victory, allowed them into Deorum, the land of the gods. Wilfred and Marianne became the ruler of the gods.

The end.”

Harry looked down at John, who was staring at the book in wonder. He looked up at Harry. “What other gods are there?” he asked. “Can you tell me more stories?”

Harry sighed. “John, I'm tired and have work in the morning. I can't.” He began to frown. “But you can stay out here and look at the book. Just come inside if you get tired, okay.” John nodded and she smiled and rubbed his head as she walked back inside.

John began flipped through the book, looking at the beautiful pictures of the gods. Then, he saw the most beautiful one of all. It was a man with dark, black hair. He was dressed up just as fancy as the other gods, but looked more like a prince than a god. He had a purple shirt with medals and black pants. Behind him was a flowing black cape. In one hand was a ball of light and the other a ball of fire. But by far the most extraordinary part was his eyes. They were blue and gray and green all at the same time. They were intense, too. Like they were staring into your soul. John was mesmerized and had to use all of his might to read the text.

“Sherlock: The God of Science,” he read aloud.

“Sherlock is the god of innovation, discovery, and curiosity. He is the second son of Wilfred and Marianne, making him prince. As such, he is often depicted with a crown and prince like clothing. It is said that when he was young, he created the sun to give to the people on Earth. As he grew older, he gave the people fire to ward off the creatures of the night. Since these were his greatest inventions, he has the power to command light and fire, but only in small amounts. It is claimed that his power can be magnified if he is in danger. He is the most underestimated of all the gods, but should his powers be blocked or removed, the world would go on with no new innovations.”

John yawned loudly and stood. He grabbed the book and blanket and walked back inside. It was all quiet, but, if he listened, he could hear sobbing coming from his parent's room. He left the blanket on Harry's floor and walked back to his room. He put the book on his bedside table before turning out the light and going to sleep.

Years passed and John still had the book. Harry would come home every day and see him reading on the couch, or in his room, or, on one occasion, the roof. Harry would smile and tease him about it. It never bothered John though. The gods in the book fascinated him. His favorite was always Sherlock, whose picture he looked at every night. Once he left for collage, the book was forgotten, buried under homework and classes and Mary. But even when he grew up, he thought back to the book and the man with black hair and eyes like the universe. And every time he did, he swore he could hear the laughter of a women.


	2. Chapter 1

None of what happened was Sherlock’s fault. Really. If he had to blame someone for why he was on Earth, it would be his brother, Mycroft. He just had to fall in love with that stupid mortal Lestrade. He just had to get Mummy and Father to think Sherlock needed someone, too. The idea was stupid, really. Yes, this was all Mycroft’s fault. Well, maybe not the “rushing into Atri and attacking Magnussen”. Maybe starting at the beginning would be a better idea. It started on the day of the Peace Festival, the day his parents won the war and were accepted into Deorum.

“Sherlock, why are you up here playing that silly instrument?”

Sherlock stopped the scratchy note he was playing on his violin. He should have realized they would send Janine to come get him. After all, the goddess of magic was the only person who actually talked to him. And the only one Sherlock would talk to. They did make a strange duo. She was always up in the clouds (sometimes literally, she could fly, after all), optimistic, and seemed to actually want to be here. Sherlock was always grounded, pessimistic, and on a good day he only wanted to be three realms away. They did have a lot in common, however. She was sly, manipulative, and at least half the pranks Sherlock has ever been accused of were actually her doing. They were also outcast. Her magic hasn’t been believed for centuries. The other realms already made tons of advancements, they didn’t need him. Unnecessary, that’s what they were.

Sherlock turned from his window to glare at her. “Well, I was ignoring everyone,” he snapped at her. “Guess I’m not now.”

Anyone else would have left by now, scared to death. She just laughed. As she did, the gold designs woven into her white dress seemed to dance and the ribbons wrapped around her arms and legs rippled. The dresses she wore always puzzled Sherlock. The only explanation for it was magic, and he hated that. He then noticed she was slightly hovering above the floor. “Sherlock,” she said, her voice reminding him of silk, “you should be out there with everyone else. Why don’t you come with me?” Janine held out her hand. It made Sherlock glare even more.

“Janine, I have been friends with you for millenniums, I know when you are trying to control me,” he replied and turned back to look out his window. He could see his parents greeting their people. Mycroft was here, too, but he was off with Lestrade. They was a small sigh and an almost inaudible thump before he felt Janine lay a hand on his shoulder.

“I only do it because I want you to be happy,” she told him.

“I am happy.” Sherlock could hear the lie in his voice.

“No you are not,” Janine replied. He knew that tone of voice. It was Janine’s “I know I’m right so no bullshit” voice. “I know you don’t feel appreciated and I know exactly how that feels. I haven’t been needed in centuries. But you are. Everyone needs science and advancements. They need you.”

“I know you think you’re right, but…” Sherlock was cut off by the sound of an alarm. Janine and he looked at each other. “The vault,” they both said at the same time. They ran out of the room and toward the bottom of the castle. They got there just in time to see two of Magnussen men being dragged to the dungeon. Janine and Sherlock raced inside to see his parents and Mycroft standing around a broken case.

“Father, where is the third man? Mycroft, why is your stupid mortal not here to help?” Sherlock asked, staring at the broken glass. Guards were staring at the glass, trying to determine what happened. It took Sherlock all of 2 seconds. Probably less. It was clear they used a secret passage to get from their realm to here. The guards shot him dirty looks, but knew better than to not trust his judgment. His father looked at Sherlock like he was asking the same question. Mycroft huffed and glared at Sherlock.

“If you must know, I sent him back to Earth. It became too dangerous here for him,” Mycroft replied, and if looks could kill, Sherlock wouldn’t be here. Instead, Sherlock smirked at him, because no matter how hard he tried, they never would.

“Well then, how is the diet, Mycroft? It looks to me like you’ve been slacking.” Mycroft looked like he was about to strangle Sherlock, and when later asked, would say he definitely would. If not for Mummy deciding to step in.

“Boys, this is a serious matter!” she yelled at them. “They have taken the blade of balance, and it is important that we find those responsible.”

Sherlock just stared at his mother. “Is it not obvious? Magnussen is clearly responsible. He broke the peace treaty.”

“Sherlock,” his father said, “we do not know that. They simply could have been rebels. Or been working for someone else.”

“Father, why are you being so blind? It is clear that he broke the treaty. You should be marching to Atri right now!” Sherlock was yelling by now. He could see the guards flinch back. Janine laid a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off.

“Sherlock, we do NOT know it was him. Therefore, I will NOT risk the treaty.”

“But Father…”

“No buts,” his father said, his tone final. “Janine, Mycroft, take Sherlock to the Meeting Tower. I will be there once I have secured the other artifacts.” The two in mention both nodded. “Sherlock, you are not to leave until I get there and we have talked.” Sherlock glared at that. His father sighed and turned his back. “You are dismissed.”  
Sherlock huffed and stopped out of the room, looking the part of a 5 year old. Janine quickly followed, and Mycroft shortly after.

~~~

“He is such an idiot,” Sherlock said for what had to be the millionth time while he paced around. Mycroft rolled his eyes while Janine looked at Sherlock sadly. They shared a look with each other. It had been an hour since his father had sent them to the Meeting Tower. It was where all official godly business took place. The big, round, wooden table took up most of the room. Surrounding it were 8 chairs, each carved with what symbolized each god that had a part in making decisions. Mycroft and Janine were both sitting in their respective chairs, both as utterly bored as Sherlock was.

Sherlock stopped pacing suddenly, only to slam his hands on the table. He stared at both of them before saying, “We should go to Atri.”

“Are you mad?” Mycroft yelled, standing up. “Father told us not to get involved, so we won’t.”

“Mycroft, Father is too kind to actually do anything, even if he did find evidence. We need to take it in our own hands.”  
“Sherlock we can’t.” Mycroft turned to look at Janine, who had been completely silent. “Talk some sense into him, please.”

Janine stared between the two. “Mycroft has a point, Sherlock.”

Sherlock’s stare turned downright murderous. “If you won’t come, I will go alone.” He turned to walk out the door. Janine looked once more at Mycroft, giving him a pointed look.

“Wait Sherlock, I’m coming too!” she called after him.

With a small amount of mumbling, he followed them both out the door. Not before finding a guard and instructing him to tell his father everything. After all, he wasn’t about to go off to Atri without informing his parents. And there was no way he could let Sherlock and Janine go off by themselves.


	3. Chapter 2

John always imagined that the worst thing that could happen to him was that he would die in Afghanistan. That he would leave his fiancé, Mary, all alone. All those nights, laying and listening to gunfire, waiting for a red alert to come, he never thought that he would come back and find he lost her.

He first met Mary in college. She was studying to be a nurse and he was studying to be a doctor. They took the same biology class and sat next to each other. It was love at first sight. They went out for a while, but before they got serious, he told her that he was going into the military. That was how he was getting through college, after all. She simply hugged and kiss him, nothing but supportive.

Then they graduated and moved to London, a place they both always wanted to live. The flat they got was small, but homey. Then he had to leave. On his last night, he took Mary to a romantic dinner. Then, he got down on one knee and proposed. She said yes, and he promised they would get married the moment he got back to London. It would only be two years, he could take it. They would make it.

Funny how things changed.

The week before he was scheduled to go back, his commanding officer came up to him. John was needed on the front lines. He was one of the best doctors they had. They told him he didn't have to go. He could have gone back home, to his soon to be wife and the life that was waiting for them.

But he knew he couldn't live with himself if he did.

So he called Mary, and told her that it would be another couple years. She yelled and cried. He told her everything would work out. That he would be okay.

It was the last he spoke to her before returning to London. She sent no letters and didn't respond to any he sent. He felt like something was wrong, but never had time to dwell. They needed his help. He was, eventually, promoted to captain, but it seemed like Mary didn't care. The supportive, caring her was gone.

He was ecstatic to be returning home. He would finally be able to patch things up with Mary. Have the life he always wanted.

When he stepped off the plane, he suspecting Mary to be there. He waited for 3 hours, but she never showed. He assumed that she had taken a shift at the hospital and couldn't come. So he got a cab and rode, by himself, back to their flat. Nothing, not the boot camps or constant gunfire or watching his comrades die, could have prepared him for what he found.

He opened the door, expecting to find no one, or maybe Mary. He wasn't expecting to find Mary and some man lying on the couch, both naked and making out. They didn't even seem to hear the door. He cleared his throat loudly and dropped his bag down on the floor. They both looked up, startled. The guy had the decency to look guilty and Mary just stared in shock. The guy, noticing John’s murderous look, quickly got up, grabbed his clothes, and run out. Mary continued to stare. The conversation that followed was worse than all the arguments his parents had when he was younger.

Mary yelled and screamed. Said it was all John’s fault. He should have come home. Should have been here. She said Adam was there for her more than John ever was. John yelled right back, saying that she shouldn't have had sex with him. There was more yelling, then crying, then John demanded his ring back. She threw it at him as he walked to the bedroom to pack a bag. He told her that he would get someone to get his things. He tried to ignore her cries as he walked away.

That was almost 6 months ago. He found out shortly after she was a month pregnant. It wasn't his, she told him. She got married to Adam, too.

He had the worse luck in the entire world. Really.

So he wasn't surprised that, as he was walking through the park all alone one night, a hand reached out and grabbed him. John fought back, of course, but the guy had to be military trained. He also had a head and at least 50 pounds on John. So, again, John wasn't surprised when the guy succeed in putting rag doused in chloroform over John’s face. After that, John remembers nothing.

~~~

When John wakes up, he notices three things.

1\. His arms and legs are bound to a chair. The knots are tight, professionally done. They won’t budge.

2\. He is in a warehouse. Abandoned, if he had to guess. The gun he secretly keeps on his person is gone.

3\. He is being watched by the guy who took him and another guy. The guy who took him is buff, with military style sandy blonde hair and sunglasses. It’s no wonder he could overpower John. The other is dresses in a suit. He looks taller than John, but isn't as muscular. He’s wearing one of the best suits John as ever seen. Despite this, he still looks dangerous. And very familiar.

“Looks like sleeping beauty finally woke up,” the man in the suit says. “Hello, Johnny.”

John immediately makes a face. No one has called him Johnny since he was small. There are so many things he could do, ranging from yelling curses to staying silent. He instead goes with the question that has been bothering him since he woke up. “Do I know you?”

The man smiles. “Look at that Sebastian. He remembers. Come on, think really hard Johnny.”

So John does. He studies the man. Looks him up and down. Then, it comes to him. The book. The one about gods and goddess and magic. His eyes widen. “Moriarty,” John whispers.

“Ding, ding, ding,” Moriarty shouts, seemingly pleased. John glances at the man who must be Sebastian and sees him looking disinterested as he plays with his gun.

“But that’s impossible,” John says, his hysteria rising. “Those were stories. Myths! They weren't real.”

“Oh, sweet Johnny, so innocent,” Moriarty says as he pats John’s head. “Not every book of myths are actually myths. Some can be real.” He was smiling wider now. It made John cringe.

“Alright, I’ll bite,” John said skeptically. “So you’re the god of chaos. What do you want with an army doctor? A mortal army doctor.”

“Simple,” Moriarty replied as he cupped John’s cheek. “You are supposed to be very important in the future. You are the only one who can ruin all my plans. So I need to get rid of you.”

John glanced at Sebastian again, and then turned his head away from Moriarty. “If I remember correctly, fate as a way of working no matter what.”

“Unless fate is on my side.” Moriarty looked at Sebastian. “I have a little rebel on my side.”

John was about to say something back when Sebastian spoke for the first time. “Sir, she's coming. We have to go.”

Moriarty glared at John. “Time for me to go. It was a pleasure, Johnny.” His bright tone really didn't match his face.

Then, John felt a searing pain in his shoulder. He knew it must have been the gun. Then he was left alone. It hurt worse than anything he had ever felt. Darkness began to enter his vision. Just before the world turned completely dark, he heard a laugh and a voice.

“John. My sweet, beautiful John. You are finally mine.”


End file.
